words out my fingertips

Tag: beautiful

Today life consists of falling in love 140 characters at a time and proposing through status updates. Your friends, popularity and likeness are measured through the number of likes and comments. Every aspect of your life is infiltrated by others and so, how could religion stay far behind.

Social media has always had its highs and its lows, and while it has worked to salvage misconceptions and ideals, it also has worked to create unnecessary fear and hate. Don’t tell me I’m going to Hell just because I scroll past the Holy picture that you’ve shared. Don’t promise me Heaven if I do continue the chain and share it. None of these outcomes were ever in your hands. And our piety cannot be measured this way.

Instead of being pious in the eyes of God, you work to appear pious in the eyes of the world. And then follows your innate need to flaunt this piety making others out to be sinners in your eyes. Religion should not be measured through the horn that you blare all over your timeline. The sheer volume of your voice does not constitute anything. This itch that you constantly feel to ‘save’ people only proves the kind of person that you are.

#Blessed has become more a part of our lives than the simple, private act of thanking God of bestowing His blessings upon us. Don’t recount your blessings by making it a public matter because it brings into question just exactly what you’re trying to prove and show to the world. Religion has never not been complicated and we’re all in the midst of learning, always will be learning. It’s hard enough loving yourself but when people make you out to be sinful, it becomes all the more difficult.

Religion has always been this beautiful, private relationship that we have with God. Don’t make it perverse by attaching multiple partners. The power lies in the silence of a voice that requires no sound. God ain’t your trophy wife to show off to the world.

She fumbles with her ice blue dress. Her fingers shake as she bites down on her lip to silence a sob. Mascara stains her rosy cheeks and she tastes blood from biting down to hard.

This blasted dress needs to come off.
Her hair needs to escape its perfect placement.
Nothing about this night seems hopeful.
Nothing about this night seems happy anymore.

The dress clings to her body and she wants to tear it apart. Just to get it off. Because nothing about this night seems right. Everything suddenly seems wrong.

Why did she ever think that she looked pretty?
Clearly no one else thought so.
Why did she put in so much effort?
When not a single eye wandered her way, all night.

Because somewhere in her heart she hopes to be beautiful. To be the one that steals breaths with every step she takes, and locks them away. Never to be returned. She wants to maybe tell her daughter someday that she was beautiful.

Life is a work-in-progress.
Soon none of these things matter anymore.
And all you want to do is show up in your pjs.
Who wants to put so much effort anyway?

That night was the worst. A memory that would never fade even if she tried. That dress still hangs in her closet even though all she wants to do is burn it along with all the painful memories.